Habits
by Silly Little One
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphel have both picked up human habits from their time on earth. Crowley likes to sleep a lot while Aziraphel picked something very different... now beta'd and reposted.


Disclaimer: while i do own an old and highly dogeared copy of Good Omens, I do not own the rights. Those belong to Mr. Pratchett and Mr. Gaiman, two men who I am deeply fond of. This was written for my own amusement and hopefully the enjoyment of others so I wont be making a cent.

Authors Note: This is my first fic so please give me any comments or constructive criticisms that you feel are warranted.

Update: Maggoty Anne was kind enough to beta this story for me so I can now repost it. Only a few small changes besides some of the glaringly obvious grammatical mistakes you all pointed out for me. This is a learning experience for me and so I thank you all for your continued comments.

Habits

by Silly Little One

It had been a terribly stressful time, the angel thought. Trying to help prevent the end of the world is not what is normally considered just another days work, but in the end, good... er... well... In any case, Adam had prevailed and things were looking to be back on track. It had been such a relief to get back to the book shop and finally relax, knowing that nothing was going to come crashing down in the next few hours. Of course, Crowley had arrived not too long after, happy to show off his perfectly restored Bentley. They had a nice dinner at the Ritz to celebrate, and all in all had a very good evening.

Now back at the shop, Aziraphale waved to Crowley's rapidly disappearing vehicle before he walked inside. Closing and locking the door behind him, he gave a contented sigh and stood for a moment to appreciate the stillness. Nothing was going wrong and life was moving forward. The Angel sighed and stretched as he walked through the back room, towards the rickety stairs. He didn't visit the second floor very often, but he felt it was worth the special occasion. Crowley was no doubt already speeding back to his flat to slither into bed and sleep into the middle of next week. Aziraphale had never been able to understand why the demon seemed to love that odd state of unconsciousness that humans needed to survive. It was an odd habit to be sure, but who was he to judge? At that moment the Angel had his own habits to attend to.

The second floor of the shop wasn't much to look at. In fact it was much more of an attic than a fully fledged second level, but it served his purposes. The low ceilinged room was small and sparsely decorated. A battered old bed with a ragged cotton quilt was tucked into an alcove on the far side of the landing, just underneath two dirty windows that offered a pleasant view of the brick wall of the building next door. To the right of the landing was a small space that contained two antique chests of drawers and an old over sized standing mirror. The whole room was covered in a fine layer of dust and looked as if no one had visited it in more than a decade. In reality it had been even longer.

Aziraphale hardly spared a glance to the rest of the room before turning to the left of the landing, and staring at the only thing there. It was a door, and fairly nondescript one at that. The angel paused for a moment, staring reverently, before turning the handle. The door swung open easily and Aziraphale stepped into the dark room, reaching for the pull cord he knew was somewhere above his head. With a small tug, the room was bathed in a warm light. He gave a happy sigh, looking at the clean white porcelain around him before setting his eyes on the object that was paramount in his vision.

The angel was going to take a bath.

Now, one just can't go about taking a bath all willynilly. There has to be planning involved. All the important items have to be collected and properly set up before one can begin. Aziraphale stood in the middle of the room wrapped in his fluffy towel, as he went through his mental list. Clean white towels; check. Favorite pink shower cap; check. Assortment of scented bath soaps and oils; check. Trusty back scrubber; check. Aziraphale tucked his hair into the shower cap, before he paused. Something was missing. He turned and began riffling through the cabinet to the left of the sink, before clutching something to his chest. Squeaky rubber ducky; check. Now everything was ready.

Filling the bath took a few minutes; the plumbing was old and the water pressure was not what it used to be, but the angel could wait. He stood patiently, listening the pipes groan and watching the water level slowly rise up the sides of the large claw footed tub. It had been an extremely lucky find. Aziraphale had used several small miracles to get it into the bathroom and reinforce the floor under its weight. But it was all worth it in the end, he thought, as he drizzled some lavender bath bubbles into the water and watched them foam, expanding under the stream of water. Finally the water reached the right level and he turned off the faucet. Unwrapping his towel, he folded it and laid it neatly on the chair beside the tub. With brush and duck in hand, he gingerly arched one leg and dipped it into the water. It was the perfect temperature; hot but not uncomfortably so. With a smile he stepped the rest of the way into the bath before sinking into the water with a contented sigh.

Words could not do it justice. The sensation was pure heaven. Lying back, being suffused in a gentle enveloping warmth was like being wrapped in His love. It reminded the Angel of the feeling he had had when standing in the presence of the Lord almighty; not that he had been graced with His company often, and especially not since he had been permanently stationed on earth for the last six thousand years. Still, it was as close to that feeling as he could get, so Aziraphale reveled in it. Running the warm water over his skin refreshed him and made him whole in a way that he couldn't define. It catered to the small part of him that still missed the glorious feeling of being in heaven. The angel squeezed the little yellow duck and smiled at the high pitched squeaks it made. Of course, he didn't need to follow human conventions about bathing, but he rather enjoyed the normalcy of it. He hardly used the back scrubber, and the duck was usually allowed to wander as it willed throughout the hills of soapy foam. He very rarely got dirty and it was just a small miracle to clean himself up if need be, but that was not the point. It was the experience that mattered to him.

Aziraphale lingered, soaking up the feeling and allowing his mind to wander until the bath began to cool. With a sigh he stood and wrapped the towel around his frame. He leaned over, fetching the duck and scrubber, before tugging the plug's chain. Immediately, the sucking sound of the drain reached his ears, as he vigorously dried himself and redressed. One of the nice things about being a supernatural being was that one did not have to put up with pruned appendages, or bathtub rings if one didn't want to. Without so much as a blink, Aziraphale turned from his once again spotless bathroom and began buttoning his shirt with wrinkle free fingers. Opening the door, he pulled the light chain off before leaving. He turned and shut the door quietly before heading back down the creaking stairs.

He felt wonderfully refreshed and ready to take on the cataloging of all the new books Adam had put in his possession. Yes, life was good, the angel thought. He really should indulge in his bath time ritual more often. He grinned in a very unangelic manner. Let Crowley have his sleep time. Aziraphale had something immensely more satisfying than that!


End file.
